


Moonlight

by RamblingWithFantasy



Series: The Way We Want it [3]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bonfire Party, Cashton are in a relationship, Heartbreak, M/M, Michael gets dizzy but not exactly drunk, Moonlight, Platonic Muke once again, Truth Confession, a lot of feelings, beach, this is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingWithFantasy/pseuds/RamblingWithFantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael decides to go to a bonfire party with Calum and Ashton. He plans to get a little bit of booze, knowing Calum will be there to surveil him. He doesn't know yet he'll meet a very important someone along the way.</p><p>-</p><p>Or the night when Michael isn't sober and meets Luke by chance and tells him several unspoken truths he didn't pluck up the courage to tell him the first time he hung out with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back! For the ones who have never read Of Postcards and Love, please do it. It's highly recommended because the first chapter of the series contains the main plot and a ton of important things. This third chapter wouldn't make much sense without reading the first one. Anyway the choice is yours. For the ones who even faintly remember, enjoy the reading! :)

Michael firmly decides there’s no way he’s going to stay home tonight and waste the time of a 21 years old dude, his time, being thrown away like a smelly sock on the sofa watching a schmaltzy chick flick with his parents, but he really doesn't want to go out and get back to his room wrecked and hammered like no tomorrow either because he knows too well morning consequences are not his forte; hangover usually pulverizes his insides and turns his well-functioning stomach ability to digest to ashes and this is the last thing Michael needs right now.

Once he used to drink several cheap beers and go on with chilly mojitos all night long until his mind started begging for mercy and his eyes, well, his eyes started closing more and more so that he was basically sleeping upright like a horse, then ha was wisely brought wherever Michael needed to go by his friends, especially Calum, who thus became expert in managing funny drunk little Mikey. Calum is drunk Michael’s only brave saviour and the red head wouldn't go, still refuses to go partying if Calum doesn't tag along with him. And the morning after this or that party the two just used to sit down in either Calum’s or Michael’s kitchen (because they always crashed at each other’s home even though they can't figure out how since they said goodbye every time they left in a more than acceptably sober state, at least for Calum) and Calum would tell Michael between the laughter and a sip of water how fucking ridiculous and too shamelessly honest he spoke and acted in detail the night before.

 

Things changed when Michael stopped drinking for some reason, which meant no more parties and special occasions to drink till complete drunkeness, and his stomach actually agreed with that so it voluntarily returned to the roots, got back to be the stomach of a 10 years old kid, like it’d detoxified itself and left no other available choices. It doesn't mean Michael can't have fun the way he did before, he’s able to have fun even being sober, he guesses. The only difference is that Calum isn't having breakfast with him anymore, he wouldn't tell him how fucking ridiculous and too blunt he was while partying simply because he hadn't been any of that. Michael misses those mornings a little bit, the nights when he could afford to be carefree and untouchable by people’s judging stares and silent words, criticism unspoken, because of his always-differently-dyed hair or pierced eyebrow or tattooed arm. Michael kind of hates being sober because he is most of the times, but he couldn't have it any other way.

It’s Friday night after all, and even if it’s winter Michael can't find a reason why he should stay secluded at home when everyone out there is having the time of their life dancing and laughing by the bonfire on the beach. They’ll be freezing to death right now, Michael bets someone’s already having a swim in the ocean (his city is inhabited by totally crazy human beings), but at least they’ll die happy and dancing, he supposes. Tonight he feels a little bit more upbeat so he’s willing to take advantage of this suddenly newborn mood and just go for it without too many afterthoughts. Exams have gone, he hasn't anything to worry about with the exception of his stomach. He's still got a long break from uni, two full weeks of wild free procrastination exactly, and he's not gonna waste them by twiddling his thumbs at home.

It's half past nine and pitch black outside. Michael loves pitch dark nights, he feels at home hidden in them, but when the sky is starry and cloudless and a bright moonlight just shines above the shore, when people's irises reflect sparkling waves and their hearts are affected by the perpetual motion of the sea, nothing can compare to it. True happiness and long-aspired peace look so close to him, it's hard to believe Michael may not reach out to catch it at its fullest. He'd feel less alone, he'd believe under false impression that there's still hope for a hopeless soul like him. He'd sit on the water's edge with his feet buried underneath the wet, cold sand, waiting for something that he'll realise too late is never going to come.

Michael was a little kid when he fell in love with the moon; she was there up high, extremely powerful and so glorious in all her blinding brightness that Michael couldn't take his eyes off her. A particularly quiet and silent atmosphere was reigning all over the place at the time, no one who could disturb was in sight and Michael, not even remotely scared by the night and the thought of being absolutely alone and defenceless, had proclaimed himself the undisputed king of the beach and the moon its queen. An awkward marriage against the law and out of the ordinary, of course, but Michael was happy with it after all. Unfortunately such an intimate moment was broken by Michael's hunger harshly demanding food, which it's not that easy to say simply no to. So he greeted just God knew who and got back home, leaving a long trail of footprints the sea would have just washed away seconds later, together with the fears of what tomorrow would bring.

Now he's sitting cross legged on his undone bed, phone in hand texting Calum. He wonders if his best friend's having a heated session with Ashton like any other Friday because, well, actually things evolved a lot from that new opening back in late August into something more complex, and Michael'd kinda been forced to keep up-to-date with them and their love affair since Calum is prouder than anyone else in the world to have a boyfriend like Ashton. The raven haired buddy isn't accepting the fact that he has to keep the thing hidden because of his own parents' strict warnings. Besides, he's trying very hard not to explode at any moment and consequently send to hell whoever only dares looking mischievously at his cutie pie.

 

Mikey: You and lover boy busy tonight?

Cal: If you mean "fucking" with busy, no T.T

Mikey: Why do you have to be so rude to me and wait, you aren't?

Cal: I was just clarifying though

Mikey: Just needed a yes or no, you moron

Cal: No, but there's a bonfire party at the beach

Mikey: Texted you on purpose

Cal: See you there at 22.15

Mikey: Alright, but I'm not putting up with you two snogging passionately all night long. Being the third wheel isn't funny anymore

Cal: Sure you'll find someone to have fun with

Mikey: Not granting that. See you

Cal: Such a pessimist. Bye sweet Mikey

 

The conversation ends there with a sigh. He has to get out of his house in half an hour, though he's not sure whether he's gonna make it or not. He's still half undressed, rounded and huge dark bags marking the underside of his eyes (even though he usually sleeps well at night) and absolutely no idea of how to wear. Comfortable? Fashionable? Sober? Like a homeless man desperately lusting for alcohol? He really doesn't know. He gets so caught up in a swirl of thoughts he nearly misses out Calum's late text which reads "Wear who you are", and Michael's not even surprised by Calum's polite command because Calum has this extraordinary ability to foresee Michael's thoughts and insecurities and help him the right way, Michael couldn't be more grateful to him. So he follows what he's been suggested, that easy suggestion but clearly so far from Michael's mind, and dresses up nicely.

He's ready to go twenty minutes later and even though he literally adores the beach where the bonfire party's being thrown, everything was born on the shore after all, it will relentlessly bring up contrasting feelings and melancholic, nostalgic memories Michael isn't ready to face again. He's tried to forget, he's tried to move on, he's promised himself to never bring those memories up again and leave the past behind...unfortunately in vain. They get him to smile silently and cry the same time every now and then, and the situation's so ridiculous that Michael often wonders who the person that allows all of this is and why this happens. Does it happen only to him? Is he the only one to feel serene and forlorn at the same time? Michael gave in, there was probably no answer to this.

 

~¤~

 

The beach is less crowded than Michael had expected, but as uniquely moonlit as the first time little kid Michael can remember. Michael could have never imagined the darkness would hide such a hypnotising spectacle; all the streetlamps around are off, silence's only broken by the music at full blast, nothing but the music and the light, barely-there sound of the ocean waves in the background. People are dancing and having the time of their lives just as if the end of the world was tomorrow, like Michael had pictured before. The wobbly sparkling Michael had fallen in love with when he was way too young to even think such philosophically about that type of things is still there, more alive than ever, glowing so brightly in the tenderness of sea Michael is for once extremely hopeful that nothing can go wrong. He feels at home, he feels at ease sitting on the cold, moist sand with his bare feet buried in it waiting for Ashton and Calum to come. And when he closes his eyes slowly, letting his eyelids shut down gently, he almost falls asleep to the lull of the rhythm; it's too early to start dreaming. Or maybe not.

Ten minutes roll in peacefully when a hand shakes lightly at Michael's shoulder accompanied by a loud, movie-like terrific scream. Completely lost in the vastness of his thoughts, he rapidly spins around like a scared puppy jerking away from the sudden shake with his whole body and Calum can read oh-so-well the frightened expression of his face, proud to see he's just freaked the shit out of the red head through bubbles of tears and fits of laughter. Ashton's laughing his ass off as well, holding onto Calum for support. Michael wants nothing more but to choke them both. They calm down and regain composure minutes later, while Michael's still trying to recover from the almost heart attack; heavy breath, arms hanging loose on his sides and chest rising up and down like it'd usually do after a 42 km olympic marathon.

"Go hell! You two are such jerks I could've died of fear! I've just lost ten years of my life because of your stupid joke!?!" Michael squeaks audibly, throwing insults at them. He was sitting there, perfectly comfortable with his own thoughts he really wasn't expecting such a sharp interruption. He takes a step back, feeling the grains of sand invading the crevices between his fingertoes, and harshly glares at the people who, he supposes, should be their best friends. Actually, Ashton isn't given that title yet but he's been getting closer to own it. When he notices that Calum and Ashton have cooled down, for God's sake, Michael speaks again this time softer.

"You craved that, freaking the shit out of my poor lonely soul, didn't you? Almost as much as you love each other." And it cannot be a lie because Calum had told Michael he'd fallen head over heels with Ashton since the very first time he laid his eyes on the curly-headed and hazel-eyed guy back in July, since the very first kiss under a paper moon lulled by an old power ballad that went along the lines of a ship sinking in a sea of sound. Sure they love each other so much and so well that Michael can't help but feeling guilty for feeling even slightly envious of what the two have and he knows he'll never have. He's drowning in a sea of emptiness too deep and too fast, no ships nor desert islands there to save him.

"Yeah, we absolutely do. Your face was priceless though" Ashton mocks him playfully. The night hasn't even taken off for them, yet Michael's already eager to strangle someone.

"Cool! Now that you've had your fun and that I've proved you two are jerks, we can go drinking. Shall we?" Michael concludes sarcastically. He forgets momentarily that his stomach will absolutely not accept a smidgen of alcohol, he forgets that if he pushes it too far tonight he's gonna regret it in the morning for sure. He forgets a lot of things actually, but he doesn't care at this point because his friends are with him now, his saviour Calum is with him now, so nothing can go wrong and even if it did, the only one to blame for it is his drunk self. So Michael retrieves his shoes and bends down, clumsily managing to clean and brush his feet from the grains of sand first and then slipping into his red high neck converse.

"I'm ready to go, dickheads" he declares proudly after bending up again. He steals a quick glance at the dancing crowd in the distance and whatever nonexistent fear's haunting him is pushed aside by the moonlight.

"We love you too, Mikey" Calum and Ashton sighs together, dragging each other forward hand in hand.

"Have I ever doubted that? Not for a second, lovebirds" he responds briefly, making his way in the sand and leaving deep shoe prints. He hides his hands in his pockets, frozen wintery wind blowing all over his whole walking frame and his friends following step by step the path he's creating on the beach.

They easily get to the drink stand where two tall, muscular brunettes in tight black hoodies are making and serving booze here and there nonstop under fluorescent blue neon lights to sober, half-sober and rotten drunk girls and boys. They're mostly students around their age, probably taking a break from college and university and having some good time with friends they haven't seen in forever. They all look so happy and carefree, seem to let go of problems with overwhelming ease and just have fun, Michael wonders how they can do that if not with the help of alcohol. He wishes he could do the same but the point is, he gets extremely philosophical when drunk, meaning the problems of the poor soul he is would become bigger and heavier and more terrifying than ever. And Michael doesn't want that.

"Come on lads! No booze, no party! This hungover will be unforgettable" Calum beams excitedly, pushing Michael and Ashton towards the stand, making them almost stumble.

"You're so eager, aren't you?" Ashton sniggers with a grin, wrapping an arm around Calum's waist to get him closer and leaving a quick peck on his mouth.

"Hell, eager to get you insi-"

"Hey, no third wheel, you promised!" Michael scolds him smacking his free arm with a firm thump. He looks at Calum in disbelief and as he catches that mischievious glint in his eyes he shakes his head in surrender. He can't believe these two are going to have something in store for later, when he won't be around to make sure they won't be accused of obscenity in public places.

"Every sober promise turns into a drunken possibly unkept one, Mikey" Calum replies wittily and winks at him while sitting down on an empty stool, as Ashton plops his ass down onto Calum's lap. He raises his hand up and calls the brunette, who turns around and starts heading towards them. Michael decides not to have seat and thinks about the drink he's gonna order.

"Hello guys, requests?" he asks, eyeing the three of them from head to toe. His brown eyes linger on Michael's features for far too long, and it's the only thing Michael needs to get pissed off and snap at the bartender.

"Whatcha looking at?" he spits angrily. He's now staring daggers at him, while Ashton and Calum watch the scene quite amused.

The bartender takes his eyes off him and simply shrugs with diffident nonchalance. "You don't look like you're old enough to drink" he answers, stealing quick glances at the red head once in a while.

Michael's never heard something more ridiculous than the words that came out of this stranger's mouth. If he's kept calm before, now he's going to play along with this asshole to get a goddamn drink.

"How old am I then? Five? Nine? Thirtytwelve?" he teases, hoping to get a reaction out of the guy who's working behind the counter and have a little fun.

The bartender stops whatever he's doing and "Let me see your ID and you'll get what you want" he suggests bluntly, and to Michael's ears it sounds more like an order than anything else.

Michael sighs theatrically and brings his hand to fish in his pocket and take his wallet, pulling out his ID. "Do you really need to see an ID? This is embarrassing as hell" he complains, turning to the side and seeing Calum and Ashton making great effort to keep the laughter inside, hands covering their mouths and eyes shut in tears. The brunette reads Michael's personal data and hands the ID back to him. He stuffs it into his wallet and picks up a couple of dollars to pay his glass.

"Can I have a Rum and Coke now, _please_?" he asks, modulating a very feminine voice and battling his eyelids like bitches usually do to look more beautiful and fuckable. Tease hasn't ended yet. Ashton is almost exploding in laughter while Calum, well, he's already laughing into Ashton's shoulder bone, laughter muffled by his boyfriend's black coat.

"Two s-straberry vodka s-shots for us, t-thanks" Ashton manages to say between the fits of laughter; if he regained composure after frightening Michael to death, he's lost it again for sure. The same goes for Calum. The brown-eyed brunette nods and goes away, retrieving several bottles and three plastic glasses to prepare their drinks.

"Are quite finished lads?" Michael asks annoyed, tapping his fingertips on the counter absent-mindedly.

"Humiliated twice in twenty minutes, that's a great record!" Calum chirps playfully, hugging Ashton from behind. Michael can't help but look at them and burst into laughter, too, because he was never asked to show any ID at the age of twenty-one, yet someone still sees him as a teen. He doesn't know whether to compliment himself since he looks so young to people's eyes or start questioning if something went wrong in the process of growth.

"Stop larking about, that was seriously demeaning" Michael deadpans dryly. Only God knows when his drink will arrive.

"Okay, fine, I think it's enough to start the night with" Ashton chuckles, eyeing the bartender who's coming back towards them with their alcohol.

"Shots and Rum and Coke, here you go" he informs briefly, collecting the money to pay the drink the three left on the counter and slipping it into the cash register underneath. "And enjoy the bonfire!" he adds in a more than fake enthusiastic voice while cleaning the counter with a rag.

"You too, I-am-five-years-old supposer" Michael greets him sweetly before taking his glass full of amber liquid and heading towards the bonfire flames. "Aren't you coming?" he asks surprised in a shout when he notices that Calum and Ashton are still sitting on the stool having eye-sex with each other.

They turn around at the same time, probably caught off guard, as Ashton whispers one last thing into Calum's ear and caresses his boyfriend's arm gently, a worried expression etched on his face. They nod in agreement with whatever they've agreed on before "Let's dance a bit, yeah?" he suggests easily, hopping off Calum and downing his vodka shot in one single gulp. Calum follows suit, swallowing the red juicy liquor down his throat and licking his lips, and hand in hand they reach Michael by the huge ablaze pyre.

"The time on the clock reads half past four! I love this song!" Michael exclaims enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with true happiness and mouth agape as he beats the time snapping his fingers. His body starts moving and swaying to the rhythm and his voice to sing lyrics he could never forget in a million years, like the automatic reaction occurring between iron and magnets.

Calum and Ashton dance beside him, singing along the words at the top of their lungs and jumping here and there once in a while. The volume is slowly turned up to the maximum, the crowd's starting to pile up around the heat radiated by the bonfire and the music just drowns the noises of the thoughts Michael is upset by, thus the guy's only got carried away by the Rum and Coke in his hand and a very, very old song.

 

~¤~

 

It's an hour later that things start going downhill.

"I feel sooo wasted!" Michael slurs half-smiling, giggling and sniffing. He keeps wobbling around with an empty plastic glass in his hand, asking random people if they're having fun or not, if they're in love with someone or not, and basically making himself a fool in front of everyone. The worst part is that Calum's letting him do it because he's wasted, too. Ashton, well, he's busy working perfect round-shaped love bites on Calum's neck since winter coats clearly don't seem to be an obstacle for his eager mouth. In conclusion, none of them are sober.

"I didn't plan to get mind-fucked by alcohol! I'm sooo sorry" he giggles again, not caring if Calum has heard him or not. It would be a hard challenge to pay attention to your best friend talking while you're being given pleasure by your boyfriend. But Michael doesn't care at all anyway, he's at peace with the whole of himself except for his bladder.

"I'm going to pee!" he informs the two briefly, not even waiting for Calum to express his opinion on his going completely alone to empty his bladder somewhere no one can see. So he ignores Calum's several callings and "come back!"s, getting away from them at a very unstable pace, mixing a fast and a slow one together. Sand mostly holds back his attempts to launch himself in a way faster run, making him slow down at every couple of steps he takes.

When he gets at the bottom of the riffs which split the long beach in two, he unzips in a swift motion his tight black jeans and empties himself facing the rocks, also helped by the sound of the ocean waves unleashing on the shore like an endless lullaby. He quickly tucks his dick back into his underwear and zips his jeans. The bonfire place is far from him now, making Michael shiver and bring both hands to warm up his arms a little bit, hoping he'll be able to get back to it in one piece.

Dizziness and tiredness don't get along pretty well, so Michael decides he'd better have a stroll on the beach and enjoy the faint silence moonlight's giving him. So he starts walking around slowly, humming softly under his breath the same song Calum and Ashton had their first kiss with and closing his eyes. He lets his emotions flow and gives them a rest through the old ballad, interrupted by none, and he hopes he'll live like this forever. But when he unconsciously opens his eyes again, cruel reality takes over him and tears him apart like a hurricane, crumbling all of his weak hopes like pastries.

Chalk outlines are shining in the foreground, still and porcelain white, while the world keeps spinning and the sea washing his footprints away. Michael's breath gets caught in his throat, he feels like choking on pure air. He stops dead in his tracks and stares at the guy's side profile for what seems an eternity until his lips start quivering and trembling like autumn leaves; cold is mercilessly chilling his bones, sharp and unforgiving, though it's nothing in comparison to how Michael's feeling right now, the sound of his heart being broken over and over till he has none anymore, like a fancy crystal chandelier smashing down and shattering all over the place. Shards of glass he walks on bare feet, flames he takes a long bath in naked losing consciousness and falling into oblivion. And the desert of loneliness is oncoming, big and hopeless and full of nothing but deep desperation.

A lonely tear streams down his face, tracing on his cheek a wet path that leads to his collarbone which Michael's not even strong enough to dry. He feels so weak, a total loser, neglected. He feels a nothing. He blinks and blinks repeatedly trying to make the outlines go away, yes, he's dreaming for sure, it's just his imagination and alcohol playing jokes on his mind and going down too hard on him. He brushes his bleary eyes tiredly, hoping the chalk outlines will go away. 

Nothing. _He_ 's still there haunting him.

The night is lost. The ghost Michael hasn't seen in months isn't a ghost; no texts, no hanging out together, no calls. Just the emptiness he grew to get used to and a trivial, out of place happy birthday on facebook he still remembers, even though he'd prefer not to. He also grew contrasting, mind-fucking emotions all together that he wishes he could suppress: one minute he's happy, one minute later he's a miserable walking dead body, another minute later he's numb, deprived of any feeling. It's a tiring routine; it hurts like hell seeing him and not being seen in turn, but he gets out of it alive because he likes to think he's brave. Because he's a superbrave superhero with no superpowers. After all Michael's always been a transparency in the blond's life and that's all he'll ever be; a drop in the ocean. Michael's about to do what he became a master of: he looks away, his dizzy mind thinking that no, it's not too late to go unseen (as he always is) and get back to Calum. Truth be told, it is too late.

As Luke casually turns around he catches him, arching his eyebrows in hard thinking. His blue eyes glow in the moonlight, dull and empty as ever; Michael could never mistake those eyes for the ones of someone else. They peer into him not finding the answer for such a long time Michael is almost brought to think Luke forgot about his existence. It almost kills him within, only the wet path the lonely tear traced on his cheek remembering that's he's alive. Luke doesn't seem to be matching Michael's face to his name of birth so when it clicks he parts his lips, the match is done, and Michael just wants to fade away forever for several reasons. One, he's not sober which involves saying nonsensical things, acting like a fool, hurting someone. Two, he's lingering in a limbo where everything is blurred and confusing: he couldn't distinguish day from night, black from white, wrong from right. Three, Luke's turned up at the beach which he claims his and Calum's not there with him, the only one who can stop him from doing something he'll regret on sober mornings. So he sniffs, turns his back and keeps on walking as if nothing had happened, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat and wondering if it will be Luke, for once, the one to chase after him. And not the opposite.

The blond's slightly caught off guard by Michael's unexpected behaviour so he immediately stands up from where he was laying and doesn't waste time to chase after him, sinking inevitably in the sand with each step he takes to reach Michael. When he's close enough he gets ahead and then in front of him, blocking his way up. He's running out of oxygen, as his lungs up and down rising suggests, but he's in front of him flesh and bone anyway and Michael wants to do nothing but hug him tight and never let go like he did once back in the past. His arms are tingling with familiarity, desire to feel Luke's arms wrapped around his back again and never lose him. Though Michael, out of all the things he'd like to do in that moment, does nothing and stays petrified.

Luke watches him look down at the ground, understanding he's the most probable cause of that demeanour, better, he's the only reason behind it. He leaves his hands on Michael's shoulders and "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he whispers with a trembling voice, gently caressing his shoulders. Michael feels like dying at any time, throwing up his drink at any time, crying his heart out at any time. And he's fed up of everything, honestly, because he just craved good times with Calum and Ashton but ended up meeting the last person he wanted to meet in a place like this. He's fed up of meaning nothing to Luke, fed up of being non-existent to him, fed up of being lied to. If his tongue won't hold him back, just God knows who will.

"You're sorry, I get it. For what exactly? There are so many things we could be talking about. Sorry for what?" he asks venomously. He didn't mean to make it sound so harsh and ironic and full of hatred, but he couldn't help it; he repeats in his head that he's tired and angry and regretful, he blames it on that, the only truth is that he misses Luke. He misses Luke so much.

Luke tries to look at him right in the eye, pushing Michael's chin up an inch only to see tearful, devastatingly wonderful green irises fighting to choke back a million tears. They're so fragile and visibly torn at the seams that Luke's almost envious of them. Michael reluctantly looks up. As soon as a pair of eyes pour into him, deeply regretful and apologetic, his angry defences collapse to the ground leaving him exposed. "You've n-never looked at m-me in the eyes?" Michael chokes out a little bit surprised, breathing in Luke's foggy breaths.

"I do now. I realised it caused you so much struggle, I won't do that anymore. And your eyes are so beautiful. Why can't you see? They're so fragile, transparent glass-made, so alive even when you're crying. You know, the more something is fragile the more it's worth its preservation. Like works of art" Luke says trying to console him. He takes his hands off Michael and instead of shielding them from the chilly air, he wraps them around Michael's waist and brings him closer to his body, finally hugging him. Michael's mouth goes ajar, legs turn into jelly and his whole nervous system is brought to a mental blackout. It's only Luke and him again, this time under the moonlight. He missed Luke's hugs so much he'd cried at night sometimes, feeling too alone under the cold sheets of his bed.

Except for the fact that he doesn't want to be hugged by someone that haunts him, so he frees himself from his hold, the one he's been craving all day and all night long for years. He retreats scarred and offended, wishing all of this was just a bad dream. Truth is, it isn't a bad dream at all, he's awake and standing on his feet and Luke's watching him pretty bewildered. He feels his heart aching so much in his chest, ribcage applying pressure to his lungs and smothering them while Luke's waiting for an explanation completely unaware of the current inner annihilation happening inside Michael. He doesn't know where to start actually; he has a vomit of words and mean thoughts to get rid of, bitter and rotten truths, rough secrets kept hidden away from anyone for too long, dangerous half-misconstructions and whatnot. Michael's overcome with grief sheer rage, almost going out of his mind because of him.

"Leave me alone! You can't turn up now like the fucking angel you are and say sorry and make amends! You can't! I didn't hear from you and you didn't hear from me, forgetfulness caught both so there's no need to be sorry, to say it without truly feeling it. And you know what? _I_ am sorry, _I_ like you so much that I can't even chase after guys who are not _you_. _I_ am sorry for being so madly selfish. _I_ am sorry for not texting you. _I_ am sorry because you can stay in my heart as long as you want but not in my life. _I_ am sorry because I only own the beautiful picture of a more than beautiful you immersed in the moonlight like a deity ingrained in the back of my eyes when all I want is laying in your arms every single day. _I_ am sorry because I wish I could fall out of this damn feeling with you forever, want me stop liking you this damn endlessly" he shouts desperately.

"Don't treat yourself like-"

"Like any of this is my fault? It fucking _is_! - he cuts him off rudely- Some-sometimes I think 'If he's happy I'm happy, that's what matters' and it's very noble of me the few times I really _mean_ it. Most of the times it's just a huge _lie_ , almost always it's mere _bullshit_ , come on! You're happy because of _him_ , not because of me! I'm not the reason of your smile, of your laughter, of your anger, of your nightly contemplations. I'm the reason of nothing. I'm no reason! They say unrequited love is the infinite curse of a lonely heart. Fuck the hell are they right! How can I be at peace with myself knowing you don't and won't ever feel anything for me? How can I accept it? How can I accept you saying we are friends? We're not friends! I can't and don't fucking want to be your friend and lie to myself!" he cries out loud, letting the walls he'd built around himself break down.

He hides his face in his hands, he's too embarrassed to keep on looking at the blond, because after all dark nights have always been his friends. Darkness keeps him safe from anything. He knows Luke will be angry at him for having snapped at him like a raging fury; he couldn't avoid it much to his dismay. He'll blame it on the alcohol eventually, but he's not sure about what Luke will blame it on, though his dizzy mind is working out fantastic outcomes. What let down, hell, it's not enough. He's crossed the limits, so he'd better push it the furthest he can to get rid of his demons once for all.

"From the last time I saw you I met people I hadn't talked with in months, everyone but you! They were not you. It's funny how I could have everything I want, but can't have all I ever wanted. I’m struggling to decide whether to laugh or cry for the fact that I’m always looking for you in the crowd and you're never there. Sometimes faith and I work magic together, both keep me away from you. What if I survived pain, if you asked me “But do you still feel something for me?”, it would be even more correct to wonder “Why do I _always_ feel something for you?” Have I _ever_ truly stopped in the first place? And I hope my guilty look and my long silence will be a complete answer, because when it comes to you ‘yes’ and ‘no’ don't exist. Neither does ‘maybe’ and ‘a lot’ is ‘not enough’ and ‘very much’ is _trivial_. Just a desperate and confused shout I drown in silence. I'm grateful to God I still have the strenght to breathe when I look into your eyes, even though love is burning every breath, mercilessly one by one from dawn to twilight. Is it too much to ask for a little bit of peace? ‘Too much’ is selfish and ‘a little bit’ is hypocrisy. And if you left over and over would you tell me “Farewell”, would you tell me “I’m sorry”? Would you leave me for real then, wouldn't you? You’d come back, breaking my bones no more because they're already broken. So many ifs, so many fantastic worlds wherein I wear my heart on my sleeve and you care" he barely speaks, crying. The way he's barking out at the last person he should bark at scares him, scares him so in the deep that all of the sorrow in the world wouldn't be enough to redeem him. The philosophical side has emerged as he supposed, even though this time he's been more philosophical.

Luke wobbles a step back, roughly being pushed away by Michael's strength. "You say I don't feel anything for you but it's not true. You know why? Because every time I think of you, your miserable condition, the way you still feel about me after years... I feel-there's this angry feeling I direct toward myself that I can't stop. I see you in my thoughts and I wonder why on Earth I'm rejecting you. There's someone on this planet who's mad enough to love me, my broken soul and my broken hell of an everything. Why do I have to reject love if love itself is what I mostly need? Truth is, I'd bring you down into oblivion with me in a never ending falling and you'd still want to save me at all costs, putting my life before yours and I can't afford to let you do it because you're a beautiful soul and beautiful souls deserve to be happy. You'd be disappointed and then leave even if at first you'd promised to never leave, or we'd die miserable and unhappy, you'd have wasted all of your life on me." he explains keeping his cool. He doesn't even seem affected by his own words; Michael wonders how he can do that, be such calm and unaffected by emotions in a moment like this when the best he can do is ripping his heart out bare hands.

"That's why my all of my boyfriends left me; they all grew extremely fond of me but they couldn't save me. Probably no one can. Believe me, Michael, I wish I could be as you picture me. I wish I could stop the pain. Understand this is a single ticket for a journey to nowhere, no return. Even if we tried to be together, you'd eventually get out of our relationship seriously damaged and heartbroken. I care about you. Please, I just want this everlasting tragicomedy to end, I want this curse to be expiated. I'm not the right one for you, I can't even mend myself, least of all other people."

Michael takes a minute to brush his now thousand tears off his cheeks and in a last attempt "You're so blind. If you ever broke my heart, I'd still be able to love you with all my broken pieces" he manages to whisper timidly for the fear of _shouting_ those little words. Hearing that Luke's not the right one from Luke himself is like a stab in the back, deadly and straightforward to his barely beating heart.

Luke watches him with soft eyes, the softness Michael wishes he could see every day in Luke's eyes. "Unfortunately, I know how things go. It's been years of trying and splitting up and breaking people's hearts and I'm fed up of it, honestly. I can't keep on trying forever. Maybe one day they'll find me and everything will be way easier. I won't be troubled anymore" he bites his bottom lips. He nearly believes what he's saying.

"Why did he left you? Is he mad?" Michael asks out of the blue changing the subject and looking up at Luke. Out of all Luke's rambling of course he had to catch the last part and bring it up again. He had forgotten how dull but still beautiful his blue eyes are even by night, how blond his hair is; never seen how white his skin is when moonlit like tonight. And the whole is mesmerising as hell. He slowly gets closer to him, fearing he'll be pushed away in turn. "Why?"

Luke simply shrugs, sniffing. "Of course he was mad, but not enough for me. He kind of told me he had found a more easily mendable guy, affirmed they were the perfect match. He reassured me he hadn't cheated on me, which is highly questionable, but I've let him go eventually. I really didn't care about his excuses. He also told me it wasn't my fault and all that shit we usually say not to blame the one we're breaking up with. Point is, I know who I am and I can tell it was my fault" he answers. "Can we hug now? I'm freezing."

Michael is more confused than ever; he's being told by Luke he has no chance with him, that Luke himself has no chance with anyone, so what the damn hell is he doing there when Luke clearly requested to be hugged by him once again? Michael thinks Luke's such a teddy bear sometimes, seeking hugs and cuddles everywhere and in conclusion, even if he states several times that he's condemned to be alone, he really needs someone by his side. "Yeah, come here."

Luke gets closer step by step and hugs Michael, wrapping his arms around his back again. The red head completely relaxes, sliding his hands between Luke's shoulderbones and pushing him even closer to his chest. It feels like being home, another kind of. They stay there in comfortable silence when suddenly Luke breaks it, a very sweet confession about to fall out of his lips. "Would you like to have this dance with me?" he proposes, hearing a faint lullaby song in the distance. Probably this is the deepest of Luke Michael will ever hear from him so he stops his mouth from emitting any embarrassing sounds, enjoying the moment he's sharing with his too-long-time crush. " _Yes_."

Luke takes Michael's frozen hand in his frozen one and they start moving to the slow rhythm, whirling on the spot every now and then. "I'm so envious of your eyes. People always tell me that my eyes are dull; every time they basically remind me I'm kind of broken, which is actually true but... It still hurts, you know, being addressed as a lost cause? I fake no affection, no hurt. I look invulnerable and apathic outside, but you should see the inside. There's a tangled mess I've always succeeded in getting lost into, a maze made of sadness, doom and gloom it's quite hard, almost impossible to get out of. A friend told me about his adventures, incessant travelling around the world, the emanation of his free spirit; I wish I could be more like him, more serene but... I can't" he confesses shyly. He caresses Michael's back absent-mindedly to which the red head happily hums in agreement. His dizziness is starting to fade away, self consciousness and sobriety taking its place.

"If-if precious and fragile things need special handling, why can't you have the same, even more special handling? Don't you ever dare to think you're a lost cause just because people are stupid and thoughtless. Someone out there may put all of your broken pieces back together in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't even realise it; the outcome may be even better than the first try. It may be extraordinary. Just let the right people in" Michael trails uncertainly, shyly looking away. And no, he's not making references to himself because he knows Luke will never let him.

"Can you see which the worst part is? I'm only nineteen, nonetheless I'm already tired of looking out for the right person. I should be spreading the laws of love, gaining experience; instead of doing it I give it up on love. I already know who I am, I feel like there's a fifty or sixty years old man trapped inside me. It's a pretty horrible sensation for a teen" he deadpans, hiding his chin into Michael's shoulder.

"I feel so sorry for you, really. If I were you, my mum would give me theraphy as soon as I told her about it. Pretty bad situation" he chuckles, his noises muffled by Luke's coat. He hugs Luke very, impossibly tight for the last time, breathing in Luke's manly scent before he loosens the hold on him gradually and for once, it's Luke who has to let go of him. "Why are you here anyway, how are you doing? How do you find the new reality you live in?"

The song is ending, though Michael's sure the story never ends. Luke pulls away from him and suggests they get back to the bonfire place, supposing Calum and Ashton will be there waiting for him. Michael nods as they walk together the whole stretch of beach toward the crowd. "I'm on a break from university, I arrived the day before yesterday. I visited my parents and my brother but I'm not staying there during the break. I crashed at old friends' since I was basically forced to be their host, never mind" Luke laughs looking at him in the eyes; it's all Michael needs to feel butterflies taking off in his stomach and waving him goodbye. He wishes they never return.

"I feel at ease when I'm around the uni grounds. Do you believe that I almost consider it home? More home-y than this hole of a city? Everything is new and different, people are different. I befriended a couple of guys there and they're friendly and outgoing, always try to drag me to parties even if I hate them. I don't miss this place at all, actually; it was choking me, cutting my nerves off. Despite it all I came back, most of my old friends haven't even been informed of my presence in here. Now everyone's got their own life, new hobbies, I've hardly heard from them. And then I've read somewhere about the bonfire party, so I decided to silently participate. In the end I met you" he rambles, faintly smiling at Michael. It's the first time the red head ever listened to Luke talking this much about himself and he's glad the blond can be a little bit more open with him about his private life. "Anyway I must thank you, Michael."

Michael plants himself on the spot, shaking his head in confusion. "Why should you? I've been throwing shit at you for the past hour. I should be begging down on my knees for forgiveness right now instead of being thanked for something I didn't do" he replies sternly. He looks over Luke's shoulder only to spot Calum trying to hold Ashton up right to the right side of the crowd, a few feet away from the stand stools.

Lukes shakes his head as well but in disagreement as he dangerously comes closer to Michael. "For what it's worth, thank you for being incredibly open and honest with me. You're no liar when it comes to me; you always tell me the truth about how you feel even if it's the most painful truth to be aknowledged for me and mostly for yourself. Thank you for throwing shit at me when I deserve it because it makes me think, keeps me grounded. Thank you for treating me like any other human being since I'm not the deity you thought I was. This means you really care about me. Thanks for snapping at me, also; you've let it all loud once again, accepting reality for what it is. Not everyone is brave enough to do what you've done. A lot of things were still left to be clarified, five months haven't helped, but now that they're clarified I hope anything will go for the best." 

Michael listens to Luke's speech word by word, following every comma and dot, emerald eyes brought to tears again. He's fed up of crying because of someone who won't ever be there to dry his tears so he chokes them back, swallowing noisy and deep. No matter how hard he's tried to forget, to erase memories from memory like an automatic computer reset; he's no robot. He's human, he has feelings and the awkward bond he built up with Luke won't be ever denied. He nods quietly, speechless. He's about to say goodbye for the umpteenth time (at this point it may not be a farewell anymore) when a sudden, yet delightful contact drives his attention elsewhere.

Michael keeps his eyes open wide, staring at just God knows what, to make sure he's not dreaming. When it comes to Luke, Michael finds hard to separate fantasy from reality. Such a hard task Michael almost gives in. Yet the warmth of the bonfire makes its way through his layers of clothing, the moonlight's still shining brightly above them all, people's laughs and squeaks and chirps come clear to his ears, the volume of the music has been drastically turned down. He breaths in and out, trying not to faint; it'd be a very embarrassing scene for anyone to witness.

Luke's lips are kissing his left cheek, tender like silk, proof that winter hasn't damaged his flesh yet. The butterflies Michael hoped to never come back again return more colourful than before, filling his stomach up to the neck of it. He closes his eyes immediately, losing the sense of time right then: Luke could have been kissing him either for a mighty long time, either for a handful of seconds. He doesn't know and doesn't care and doesn't want to pry because hell Luke Hemmings is kissing him. A fire is lit under his whole skin apparatus, which is way hotter and warming and cheek-reddening than the ardent bonfire flames behind them.

Michael stands on tiptoe and laces his arms instinctively around Luke's uncovered nape. The kiss has ended right then, and while holding Luke tight Michael feels on cloud nine because the blond never fails to surprise him even with the easiest and most natural gesture. Luke definitely had him wrapped around his finger. "Don't say goodbye if you don't know how to. We'll meet again" he murmurs into Michael's ear, and Michael's heart skips a bit. Is he that easily readable, just like an open book?

"I won't ever say goodbye to you. Never ever" he promises himself rather than the blond. 

 

~¤~

 

A few feet away from the two a very sober Calum is holding a very sleepy Ashton by the shoulders, hoping his boyfriend won't fall asleep on the beach and consequently freeze to death. The raven haired boy has watched the whole scene from afar, from the moment Luke had caught Michael merely by chance to the present time, the two hugging, yet all his fears aren't dissolving into dust.

"Are they okay?" Ashton slurls sleepily, barely managing to walk following a straight line. He turns around a little and faces Calum, a very sad smile etched on his lips. "Is Michael okay?" he reformulates the question.

"It's what it looks like. I hope he won't wake up crying because of him in the morning. Michael's such a nice guy, he's loyal, he doesn't deserve what he's been done to. He just wants to stop liking Luke and move on. He's not reaching out for the moon, is he? He just wants to be happy without him. Is it too much?" he replies fondly while gazing at the two. "We have to take him home before he breaks down again so please, Ash, wake up a bit more and help me. I can't do that all by myself."

"Okay" the curly head agrees shortly, trying to stand on his own feet without Calum's support. He blinks repeatedly, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

They head towards Luke and Michael still hugging each other at a slow pace, nearly changing their minds to leave Michael a couple of minutes more. They stop before they're too near and wait patiently. The red head sees them immediately and he knows he must let go of Luke. He clears his throat and "I need to go, my friends are waiting for me."

"Yeah" he says simply. "See you around?"

"See you around" he waves at him. Luke waves at him in return, takes a few steps back and turns away, his frame disappearing in the dark a few minutes later. Michael watches him go away until there's nothing left to see. He sighs and starts moving towards Ashton and Calum head down, lessening his wobbling. "Hey, you alright?" his best friend pries.

Michael shrugs casually and shakes his head. "I think he's understood what the hell it's going on inside me, but he can't be with me. He's told me so many things about his life and personality. You can't even imagine how much troubled he is, Calum. And he's wonderful but doesn't see it" he answers sadly.

"He will one day, and I hope you'll be there to show him and prove it. Let's go home now" Calum concludes briefly. He hates seeing his best friend in a miserable state, so the only thing he can do is taking him home and tucking him under the blankets, leaving him safe and sound from dangers.

It's one o'clock in the morning, sea waves swinging back and forth incessantly and leaving bubbly whitish foam on the water's edge. People around the bonfire keep on dancing and getting booze nonstop, after all the best of the night is yet to come for them. Michael takes one last look at the beach he's truly fond of and then turns away, breathing in the breeze that blows from North. He and his friends bypass quickly Charlie's pizza place, a ton of memories reemerging from his past. The half-eaten slice of pizza, the streetlamp, a black bicycle, open wide arms and the hug. Michael faintly smiles. He's got new memories which have to be added to the old ones, since he remembers everything that happened in detail despite of his dizziness. And maybe Michael himself is just a bunch of memories, he doesn't know, but in the meanwhile he keeps strolling under the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> I poured my heart into writing this and I hope you'll like it :) The works of this series are loosely inspired by my personal experience. Let me know what you think through kudos and comments, always appreciated! Debbi x


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